HOMRA's Dog
by Hydrostatic
Summary: Various prompts and drabbles involving Eric and the rest of HOMRA. Some swearing, humor, obvious FujiEric fluff, other pairings implied. Rating may change.
1. Weak

I figured I'd submit some of my musings with ya'll. Eric's my absolute favorite, but in general, I love all of HOMRA's crazy boys! I hope they'll get more focus in the movie coming out in July.

This is my first submission ever. And hopefully I've kept characters in-character. xD

I've written three prompts so far, but I'd like to see some feedback before I continue. It would greatly help me as a writer.

**I do not own anything or anyone from K.** They're Gora/GoHands property.  
Not like it's not obvious that they have the same pairings as the fanbase does anyways, so it's cool. :3

ONTO THE FIRST PROMPT!

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**1. Weak**

"—ed is the weakest."

"Haa..?" Mikoto quickly sat up in his favorite leather chair, suddenly awakened from his catnap by the random statement. Once his vision adjusted, he took in his surroundings of HOMRA's Bar. Anna, HOMRA's only female and Strain, stood in front of her dozing Red King, dark red irises meeting with his tired golden ones. The older male shifted his gaze, noticing two other bodies in the bar with them—his oldest friend and second-in-command, Izumo, looked up from the wineglass he was polishing, watching the two; and the youngest teen of HOMRA's clansmen, Eric, curled up on the couch beneath the front window. He noticed the blond shivering uncontrollably.

"Mikoto," Anna caught her king's attention once more.  
"Hmm?" was his grunted response. He closed his eyes, waiting patiently.

"Eric's red…is extremely weak, compared to everyone else's," she informed. Mikoto was definitely awake now, interested in Anna's observations. Izumo quietly set the wineglass on the counter before leaning forward to rest on his elbows, also sharing the same genuine curiosity. Weaker than even Totsuka's red?

The Red King's brows furrowed and gave a light snort before standing up and moved closer to where Eric slept. Mikoto silently loomed over Eric. The blond teen recently joined HOMRA, Mikoto trying to remember if it was two weeks or two months ago—his chronic fatigue blurred his memories often. But Eric's wrists and neck were still covered in numerous fading scars, the results of his previous affiliation with the abusive Hikawa group. Poor kid still looked unreasonably thin, was always timid, and he never seemed to get enough sleep either.

"Suoh…," Izumo warned, having noticed the other clenching his fists tightly in frustration. _We need Eric to trust us_, the bartender silently added. A breathy sigh was heard, though Izumo wasn't sure if it was from his King or Eric—but he was relieved to notice Mikoto's hands relax.

Still, Mikoto remained fixated on the sleeping teen. Anna had been right; poor Eric was shivering violently, beads of sweat dripping down his face, leaving his skin clammy and icy to the touch. His breathing rate was ragged and choked from nightmares and terror. The kid was an emotional trainwreck.

What Mikoto decided next surprised the bartender: the stoic and brutish Red King, sat down beside Eric, and then pulled the teen into his lap.  
Eric did not stir.

Or so it seemed, to everyone in the room.

Eric was very much aware of the King's presence, frozen in place. He knew full well what this man was capable of doing. He'd witnessed the incredible psychic powers first hand, fortunately unscathed. But the close call was still a powerful warning to Eric: one wrong move and the King had no qualms in burning a person alive.

Should he stop feigning sleep? Should he scream or just say nothing? Before Eric could decide on how he should react, he felt a large hand rest upon his back. He stilled his thoughts. The hand steadily moved back and forth, repeating rhythmically.

The terrifying, violent 3rd King _was now rubbing his back soothingly_.

The King was comforting _him_.

"Just sleep." An almost inaudible command from Mikoto. Words for no one, but him.

Eric released a breathy sigh; his anxiety dissipated bit by bit as King silently stroked his back. _Thank you, King_, was Eric's final thought before much-needed sleep claimed his consciousness.

-x-x-x-

"….What?" Mikoto asked when he noticed the bartender smiling at him. Izumo just shook his head.

"Nothin'. Just never took ya to be the motherly-type."


	2. Prank

Some strong swearing in this one, nothing major otherwise.

The full title for this chapter would probably be "The Misadventures of Eric and Shouhei".

**Enjoy.** **:P**

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Shouhei knew it was the end of him. Just. _Knew. It._

Pranking Izumo was foolish in of itself.  
But when the prank goes horribly wrong, and your unintentional victim is King, you have unwittingly signed away your right to live.

And yet Shouhei continued to hide behind the closet door, horribly praying that somehow, someway, that he could get out of the sticky situation he had gotten himself into.

Of course, he wasn't alone in his dark hiding spot. Oh no. Cowering beside him, in a tight little ball—the mastermind behind the prank—was Eric.

Out of all the prominent HOMRA clansmen, no one would have suspected Eric to be a crafty, calculating prankster. Perhaps it did make sense, based on a logical explanation: the blond was the second youngest member of the clan—the first being Anna, obviously—so a little immaturity was expected.

Still, Shouhei was kicking himself for two things.

One, he should never have doubted Eric's unusual finesse for pranking.  
But the 22-year-old male's second realization was that he should never have enabled Eric to try a hair-brained idea and prank their second-in-command.

_45 minutes earlier..._

The prank was supposed to be simple, according to Eric. _What better place to prank Kusanagi-san than his own bedroom, _he had said. It was a sluggish summer day, the bar had been relatively empty, save for Shouhei and Eric. Izumo had gone to the local winery, looking for newly-stocked champagne he had heard about. And King was sound-asleep, as usual, upstairs in his bedroom.

When Shouhei asked Eric why he was pranking Izumo, the blond dodged the question by asking for Shouhei's help instead. He just wanted to know which room was Izumo's. He also needed a bucket to fill with ice cubes and cold water, and a small ladder to place the filled bucket above the bartender's bedroom door.

And Shouhei, stupidly curious as he was, participated in the scheme.

They waited in Izumo's closet after rigging up the trap, anxious and anticipating the older male's shocked reaction…when the bedroom door swung open and the bucket had hit its mark. The two proud idiots poked their heads out—Eric had a camera to capture the moment—but the smiles on their faces quickly changed to horrified, their mouths gaping at the sight before them.

Mikoto had been startled awake by the ruckus Eric and Shouhei made while setting up the prank. Annoyed, he stormed out from down the hall, barging through Izumo's closed door, ready to yell at him for making too much noise.

Now, Mikoto was soaked, cold, and taken aback from the shock of the ice water that was mysteriously dumped on him.

Before the furious red king reopened his eyes to see who had been behind this prank, Shouhei grabbed Eric's sweater and the two fell back into the closet.

And here they were, stuck in a closet, fearing for their lives from a backfired prank.

Why King hadn't bothered looking for them, Eric could only guess it was from the shock of it all. Instead, Mikoto had left the building—probably hunting down Izumo or the others for answers. But despite the red-head's absence, ultimately they knew there would be no point in running.

Sooner or later, Mikoto would narrow down the list of possible suspects.

He would notice two clansmen strangely missing.

Without a doubt, he would be out for their blood. Their unbreakable bonds with the King would reveal their hiding place.

Eric and Shouhei were royally screwed.

"Sh-Shouhei?" Eric stammered.

"Y-yeah?"

"I-if we make it o-out of this a-a-alive, I'll n-never do another prank, as l-long as I l-l-live," he whimpered pathetically. "Kosuke's gonna _*hic*_ hate me. H-hate me."

Shouhei said nothing, just held the shivering Eric close to him. Just then, they heard the familiar ringing of the bar's front door chime.

A brief pause.

"SHOUHEI AND ERIC! YOU'RE BOTH FUCKING CAUGHT RED-HANDED!"

The two gulped and stared at each other, recognizing the voice of the person they should be truly terrified of the most.

Not King.

_Kusanagi-san_.

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**Author's Note**:

So did Eric and Shouhei make it out alive? ...the world may never know. :p

(_they did don't worry!)_

Remember to review and rate! Next chapter will be an extremely fluffy prompt between Fujishima and Eric. =3

edit: _To the guest reviewer in need of an attitude adjustment, why not quit being a pussy coward and log in if you're gonna insult me properly?  
I'll be waiting for your PM._ :)

**By the way**, feel free to suggest prompts you'd like for me to write.


	3. Game

**3. Game** - In which Chitose, Dewa and Eric play a board game. Chitose gets a little too engrossed in it, however. Insanity ensues.

(I know I promised this chapter to be about Kosuke and Eric-and I had the drabble all written out. But I hated it and wanted to start fresh on that. So here's more stupidity until I've written a better FujiEric. Prompt me with a single word and I might update this entire fic a bit more often. *hinthint*)

**WARNINGS: Excessive coarse language  
**also I do not own K Project or characters.**  
**

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THUD!

A sudden loud noise spooked Eric awake from his nap on the bar's couch. His blue eyes, widened with fear, darted from side to side. But he needn't look far; he discovered the source of the sound. A strange box sat on the floor in front of two pairs of feet. Said feet belonged to Yō Chitose and Masaomi Dewa, the first being a hopeless womanizer and the latter helplessly befriended to the former.

"Oh heya Eric. Didn't mean to wake ya," Chitose apologized in a typical half-assed manner. "Come on Dewaaa, let's play a board gameee!"

Eric simply frowned. _He's just as loud and obnoxious as Chihuahua_, he thought to himself_._ It had been more than half a year since Eric had joined HOMRA, but some things—like his personal nickname for the clan's short, hot-headed vanguard—haven't changed.

Not much had changed between the two men in front of him either. Chitose was still chasing women; Dewa, either out of pity or masochism, loyally lingered at Chitose's side.

"The game's no fun with just two players. Oi, Eric. Want to join in?" Dewa read the instructions pamphlet, while Chitose set up the board.

"I don't know how to play that one." He leaned forward to read the box title, The Game of LIFE. "What are you supposed to do?"

"We'll teach you, just come sit over here," Dewa beckoned with a finger, his eyes still glued to the game instructions. Sighing, the teen flopped out from the comfy couch onto the cold, hardwood floor.

"ALL SET!" Chitose cried out excitedly.

Overall, the game appeared vibrant in colour. It had a spinner with each triangle numbered 1 through 10 in the board's center, and on the starting space were three little empty cars.

"Alright, basically, the game objective is for one player to end up with the most money, based on the life choices they make in gameplay. We each first choose a starting path—either a college career or just a job—and go from there. You can make decisions such as getting married, having kids, etc. etc.," the derby-hatted man explained.

"Hey Dewa, we can bend the rules a bit, right?"

"You can't choose the career of a prostitute, moron."

Eric felt his ears tingle nervously at that comment. What had he gotten himself into?

"I know that! I was just gonna say, we can make the couples gay and such. Or is this one of those 'politically-correct' games?"

"Um, Chitose-san," wavered Eric's shy voice.

"Yō, stop, or I'm putting the game away. Eric's still a kid, don't corrupt him," Dewa threatened as he glared daggers through his glasses at his idiotic friend.

"_I'm 16_, not 5," the blond corrected the older male, though the statement went unheard. Neither man bothered to listen to him most of the time, anyways.

"Whatever, can we just start already? You're such a buzz-kill right now," the brunette whined pathetically. _How old was this man again? 22?_ Eric would never believe that was really Chitose's age. The man sure as hell didn't act it. Chihuahua was immature too, but by now, Eric wished the vanguard was here instead of these two.

At least when Chihuahua played videogames, he didn't mind Eric's presence. It was the only time the two could sit near each other for extended periods of times without any insults or anger.

It was a rare day for the bar to be as empty as it was: Totsuka had taken Anna out shopping, with King in tow (protecting them of course); Kusanagi had made lunch reservations with a mysterious woman, her identity seldom revealed when their second-in-command described her as a "cold-hearted woman"; and the other clansmen were away, either working or leisurely wasting time.

The board game of LIFE finally was underway after a shaky start between the two older males. Chitose predictably skipped college and went straight for a job ("A mechanic?! But I wanted to be an Entertainer.") while Dewa wound up with a career as a police officer ("No surprise, I have to keep you in line," he gritted out bitterly). Eric also chose to skip college, seeing no point since he hardly went to school as it was, and randomly chose Artist from the job cards.

It was a rare day for the bar to be as empty as it was: Totsuka had taken Anna out shopping, with King in tow (protecting them of course); Kusanagi had made lunch reservations with a mysterious woman, her identity seldom revealed when Kusanagi described her as a "cold-hearted woman"; and the other clansmen were away, either working or leisurely wasting time.

Turn after turn, the game carried on smoothly, although Chitose broke rule after rule. He conveniently forgot to pay Dewa money when the dial landed on 10, and insisted that marriage between lesbians was justified in the game's universe. Eric didn't say much, occasionally stumbling over unfamiliar words, while Dewa corrected his mistakes in a rather condescending tone.

But 30 minutes later, the shouting escalated between the womanizer and his wingman.

"YŌ, YOU CAN'T THROW AWAY A CHILD JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN'T AFFORD IT!"

"FUCK YOU, YOUR DICK HUSBAND'S CHEATING WITH MY SLUT-OF-A-WIFE. YOU CAN TAKE THE FUCKING KID," Chitose exclaimed and threw the little child game-piece at Dewa's face.

"SON OF A BITCH! YOU POPPED ONE OF MY LENSES OUT!" Dewa swore and grabbed his friend by the collar of the plaid shirt he wore, while Eric carefully scooted back, safe from the scuffle that commenced. They struggled, accidentally flipping the board over, thus ruining the game.

Cards flew everywhere, Dewa's glasses and hat went flying, game pieces rolled under the table and chairs surrounding them, and said furniture eventually toppled over.

There was no doubt in Eric's mind that Kusanagi-san would probably strangle both men for rough-housing in his bar.

"I guess the game's over then?"

There was no answer to Eric's question. He didn't need one; he could already see it was a lost cause. Without another word, the blond decided to step out of the bar and go for a stroll.

He didn't want to stick around for the inevitable explosion and possible murder of two unruly clansmen.

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**a/n: **Technically, Eric is 18 in the anime, but in Memory of Red, he's 16-ish. Based on chapter's 5 ending (when Eric plays old footage Totsuka had left behind), Eric had been in the clan for nearly 2 years when Totsuka died.

Then again, pretty much all of these drabbles are just my own  
Remember to review and fav/follow!


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